


Instinctive

by FrostQueen23



Series: Instinctive [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Broken Promises, Kitsune, M/M, Mentioned Character Death, Mentioned Possessed!Stiles, Trust Issues, Werewolves, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostQueen23/pseuds/FrostQueen23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> "Why can't you trust anyone?" Scott said.</i>
</p><p>  <i>"BECAUSE YOU TRUST EVERYONE!!" Stiles screamed back, angry and at the point of exploding in rage. </i></p><p>  <i>So he did. And his poor Jeep paid the price. <i></i></i></p><p>There's a reason why Stiles doesn't trust most people, why he can't. And no matter how much he wants to try, to trust Scott's instincts as a True Alpha, there's a part of him that feels like the other shoe is hovering above, ready to crush him, his friends and his family.<br/><br/>Or, the real reason why Stiles can't seem to give people a chance. Reference to season 1, 3A&B and S5 Episode 2.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Instinctive

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first Teen Wolf story I have ever created. It's also the first story I have on this site, as I have previously written on other sites under a different pen name.
> 
> The idea for this is based on the scene between Stiles and Scott in S5 Episode 2, when Scott asks why Stiles can't seem to trust anyone. There are obvious reasons for it, I guess, they gave us one in the show already. But this is one that I don't think has been used before, so I'm hoping it makes it original. 
> 
> I'm hoping I can extend it to be more than a one-shot, but for now, it's only a one-shot, unless I find a way to extend it. Any ideas are welcome in the comments :)
> 
> Please note that this work is un-betaed and any times in this story are not accurrate (as I couldn't find any timelines for the show bar the 1 season to 1 school year normality for tv shows).

_"Why can't you trust anyone?" Scott said._

_"BECAUSE YOU TRUST **EVERYONE**!!" Stiles screamed back, angry and at the point of exploding in rage. _

_So he did. And his poor Jeep paid the price._

Scott took away the pain in his hand after that and they didn’t speak of it again. But it kept replaying in Stiles’ mind. Over and over again. Because it was true, what he’d said, screamed, at Scott.

Scott had this uncanny ability to give the benefit of the doubt to everyone, his trust to everyone, when they didn’t deserve it, and even when they eventually did.

Like Derek – the broody, grumpy werewolf that had become one of their strongest allies, even if he’d decided on leaving Beacon Hills to go with Braeden, the mercenary, for some “well deserved R&R”, as Derek had put it with the straightest face possible.

Jackson – the little turd who’d run off to London the second he’d gotten what he wanted from Scott and Derek.

Peter – who killed dozens of people – and that was only the ones they knew about, including Derek’s sister, Peter’s own niece, Laura Hale.  

Malia – who’d been running around as a freaking coyote for eight years – had Scott’s trust before she’d even known who Scott was. Not that she didn’t deserve to be trusted (as she’d proven quite frequently), enough that Stiles had started to consider her his little (okay, maybe bigger) sister. But Scott, even with all of his freaky Alpha powers, couldn’t have known that.

Even Theo – just the name of the guy sent shivers down Stiles’ spine – Scott trusted, maybe not like a member of the pack, but right now, more than he trusted Stiles.

And if it’s one thing to go wrong that Stiles’ can’t deal with the most, it’s trust – trusting someone else and the hope that his trust would be returned.

Scott certainly wasn’t living up to that expectation.

 

 

They say that paranoia and distrust can sometimes go hand in hand with his anxiety, but Stiles was able to ignore his, when he chose to trust in someone or something else instead of the instincts raging inside him. He trusted his mother and his father undoubtedly, and his instincts didn’t protest when they made promises to him, like when his dad told him that his mom was going to be okay, that it was a few simple tests at the hospital. But she’d never come home.

His mother, Claudia, died when he was just eight years old, just a year younger than Malia when she lost her family, a few years before the Hale Fire. She’d been his biggest confidant, his rock when the panic got to be too much.

Everyone thought that Stiles’ panic attacks started after his mother’s death; they didn’t. They started when he was three and he fell down the stairs only to land on his feet with no memory of how he went from tumbling to upright before he could face-plant on the wooden floor. Claudia had found him, huddled in a tiny ball, shivering and rasping for air that his constricting lungs wouldn’t allow him to have.

It had taken Claudia minutes to calm Stiles down enough so he was breathing normally, but those were the longest minutes of her life.

Stiles had told Scott about it, about how bizarre what had happened was. Scott calmed him down and told him that his body had probably twisted itself unconsciously to save him from getting hurt. And while Stiles could feel that Scott’s explanation wasn’t what Stiles could _feel_ happened, he chose to trust in his friend instead.

Scott had been his best friend since elementary school, when Scott, the little asthmatic kid in their 4th grade class, had followed Stiles out to the side of the school. Stiles used to eat lunch there every day. It helped him, being away from the crowd of loud, obnoxious and uncontrollable children that were laughing and playing with their friends. Less noise, more room to move.

When that head of dark head poked around the corner of his little sanctuary, Stiles had panicked. It took Scott holding him, breathing with him, to calm him down.

The two of them had been thick as thieves since then.

Until recently. Until Theo.

To say that it hurt that his best friend had practically ignored Stiles’ screaming instincts that Theo wasn’t to be trusted would be an understatement. Especially when Stiles had ignored his instincts for the sake of Scott’s before.

It was at Scott’s insistence that Stiles remained wary of Derek, even though something inside of him, a part that hadn’t loosened in a very long time, wavered slightly. Derek, though he was bulging with muscles, strength and restrained power, barely gave Stiles a second glance during that first meeting, his attention all on Scott. It had made Scott feel like prey before an almighty predator.

So Stiles trusted Scott’s instincts and steered clear of one Derek Hale. At least, until avoiding him became next to impossible.

For a while, Derek was always around, whether at school, or the Lacrosse field, or the forest where Scott and Stiles walked and talked and practiced running for the team. Then he’d started showing up in random places, ones where Scott wasn’t anywhere near. Stiles would swear up and down that he’d spot Derek out of the corner of his eye when he’d be grocery shopping with his dad, or when he’d be parking his car at school.

Every time he turned towards the flash of black that resembled Derek in the corner of his eye, he wasn’t there.

Damn werewolf reflexes.

 

 

Peter Hale had come back into the picture about four months after Scott had been bitten and turned. Derek had mentioned him a couple times, sporadic instances where he’d mention something to do with the fire. Stiles learned fast not to prod at the obviously still opened wound of Derek’s.

Scott on the other hand, wasn’t as smart.

Luckily, all Derek did was brood and make Stiles shift in the uncomfortable silence, fighting to get his pulse back under control. It never did him any good to panic, and with an uncontrollable, homicidal Alpha running around, Stiles had to focus.

Derek sent him an odd look during those times, like he knew Stiles was panicking. Stiles ignored him every time.

When Stiles had first laid eyes on Peter, back when it was Peter who was the Alpha, not Scott, the thought of ever trusting someone like that made him sick to his stomach. Even before he’d revealed himself as the Alpha and killed Kate Argent, Allison’s aunt, Stiles could _feel_ that Peter wasn’t to be trusted. Something about him, the way he looked at you, didn’t sit right with Stiles.

He trusted his instincts, and he did rightfully so.

Peter Hale wasn’t just a murder of dozens of people, he was a full blown psychotic bastard who’d kill his own family for the power he sought. Nearly killing Lydia, Stiles, Derek and Scott more than once, being the inspiration for the Dead Pool, turning Kate Argent; it didn’t seem to faze Peter. The former Alpha had just kept on going with his life, like nothing had changed.

There were times when Scott gave Peter the benefit of the doubt and he’d kept his side of the deal, like when they were trying to reach into Stiles’ mind to break the hold the Nogitsune had on him, or when he helped Derek to communicate with his mother through her claws. Stiles would be thankful for those times; if only Peter was actually one of the good guys.

He’d bided his time, patiently waiting for all of his puzzle pieces to come into play and his thwarted plan to have Scott’s own pack kill him, before revealing himself.

Stiles had never trusted him anyway.

 

 

Before Derek had left Beacon Hills, he’d come to talk to Stiles, almost as a good bye.

For half an hour, they sat next to each other on Stiles’ bed, waiting for the other to speak up. Finally, Derek asked the question Stiles didn’t think anyone would ever ask him.

“Why don’t you trust people?”

Stiles wasn’t sure how to answer at first. Should he tell him the truth, or claim ignorance?

Stiles settled for the truth.

“It’s instinctive. When I look at someone, I can tell if I can trust them or not right way. With Scott, it was instant. Lydia; instant. Allison, Kira; instant. Erica, Boyd; instant. Malia; instant. It’s like a switch. If it doesn’t click on, my whole body _rejects_ the idea of even trusting that person.

“It might be my superpower. You and Scott have the claws and fangs and superhuman strength. Kira has her katana and lightning. Maybe this is my power. Or at least, it might be something I picked up from spending so much time around Lydia, before we knew she was a Banshee.

“Things can change though. It wasn’t instant with the twins, but I didn’t feel like I would reject the thought of trusting them. And eventually I did. I just knew I couldn’t trust any of Deucalion’s Alphas back then,” Stiles said, not looking at Derek but looking at his hands instead. They shook slightly, probably as a build-up of the last few stressful days.

Stiles suddenly felt exhausted, like he’d run a fifty mile marathon run with only a drop of water to keep him alive. As he opened his mouth to suggest that maybe they pick this up tomorrow, Derek opened his first.

“I don’t think a Banshee’s power can ‘rub off’ on a human, Stiles. If this is a power you have, it’s yours and yours alone,” Derek said.

Stiles sat there and gaped, his mind working a thousand thoughts a minute, not quite computing the information given to him. He snapped out of his thoughts, just as Derek opened his mouth again, to ask something of Stiles, something Stiles could already see would be important.

“Did you have a feeling about me? About whether you could trust me or not?”

Derek turned those doe brown eyes on him and fixed him to where he was seated. Stiles felt his resolve crumble and uttered the one word that had the potential to change everything.

“Instantly.”

 

 

Derek left not long after that, with the promise that he would try to call Stiles at least every couple of weeks so Stiles wouldn’t go out of his mind with worry.

And then, six months later, after the summer of thinking about college and his friends and _Derek_ , it all came crashing down.

First, some creepy goo-covered werewolf wannabe had attacked Parrish, and then Scott, determined to steal his power. A True Alpha’s power can’t be stolen; Scott made sure the wannabe got the message.

Then, Theo Raeken, who no-one had seen hide or hair of for years, magically turned up to help Scott fight off the wannabe werewolf. Oh, and Theo was a werewolf himself. Fantastic.

Stiles immediately got a bad vibe off of Theo. He wasn’t at all like their friend in fourth grade, the shy, meek boy with expressive eyes. Stiles tried to get Scott to listen to him, to be cautious at least, if not suspicious like Stiles was.

But Scott had been blinded by Theo, memories of the shy little boy they’d been friends with firmly planted in the forefront of Scott’s mind. Stiles wanted to scream at Scott that Theo was bad news – he’d done it more than once already – but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. If Theo wasn’t a werewolf, Stiles would have suspected some spell or evil Druid-craft. Possession, like the Nogitsune, only less… psychotic.

But those stupid glowing amber eyes in Theo’s head and the crimson red ones in Scott’s couldn’t be mistaken, no matter how much Stiles wished for it to be possible.

 

 

When Stiles was attacked by Donovan, he did something that made him feel dirty and disgusted with himself. He’d killed someone. He couldn’t even convince himself that it was self-defence, that he would be found not guilty should his dad investigate. Because Stiles sure as hell felt guilty.

Stiles didn’t tell Scott about Donovan. Not for the same reason he didn’t tell his Dad anything, because he didn’t want him to worry, not with all of the bills weighing on him despite assurances that they were fine and would be fine.

But because Stiles was beginning to panic and trusting his instincts more than Scott. And telling Scott he’d essentially killed someone would be the final break in their strained trust, he could feel it.

His instincts screamed at him that he would be thrown out of the pack, the ‘no-killing-anyone-supernatural-or-not, attacking-you-or-not’ pack. It had all been an accident. And for the first time in forever, Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to ignore his instincts and trust Scott this time.

Stiles isn’t even sure Scott would listen if he did muster up the courage to try to tell him what he’d done, the blood that now stained his hands.

Stiles hid the bite from Donovan under thicker shirts and padded gauze. He wore bigger shirts and heavier jackets to hide the slight bulge of fabric under the shirt. No-one noticed. Then again, maybe they didn’t care.

Stiles didn’t know what to think anymore. A year ago, he would have laughed at anyone who’d have told him that he would lose his trust, his faith, in his Alpha, in _Scott_. He’d have sent them to Eichen House for the mentally insane for even thinking such a ludicrous thought.

Funny how things change, isn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> So, there you have it. My version of why Stiles doesn't seem to be able to trust people; he physically can't make himself do it unless he's trusting someone he does trust with the new person. 
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked the story :) I'll hopefully be posting more soon!


End file.
